Monday, June 28, 2010

I remember the first time I rode a motorcycle. A friend had purchased a Yamaha 360. We went to a bank parking lot to check it out. Like a parent teaching a child to ride a bike they ran along side of me as I “zoomed” around in first gear. I never got out of first gear. I rode for an entire ten minutes max before surrendering the bike. That was it. Really, that was it. After my in-depth lesson we went riding along the coast line watching the sunset on the Gulf.

The next morning, sitting in the apartment alone, as I am dangerously prone to do, I started to ponder the wonderful feeling, sitting on the back of the motorcycle, zooming along the coast. And, as you may have anticipated, I decided to go for a spin. Helmet on, key in hand I hopped on the motorcycle repeating over and over the gear sequence. I tilted the bike so one of my short legs could reach the ground while my other leg smashed down on the kick start. Oh my gosh, it started. There I sat, straddling a motorcycle that was running. Looking around to see if anyone noticed, I almost fogged the helmet’s shield with my laughter. I pushed myself out of the driveway into the street and off I went for a six hour drive, round trip, along the coast line. And no, I did not stay in first gear.

That experience could take up twenty blogs, but one very tactile and emotional memory has stuck with me over the decades. It was a simple epiphany, not exactly a spiritual awakening, but an awakening nevertheless. Riding on the motorcycle I became part of the scenery. I was the wind. I was crashing into the sunlight. I felt the highway. No longer was I watching “TV” through a car window, with your view framed by the shape of the windows. No, me - very analytical, thinks things through, and the label “risk taker” would stick to me about as well as a Post-It on an ice cube - heard the call of adventure, surrender and a touch of fun and answered “yes.” In answering yes, I stepped out of myself and became the call itself.

The keys, upon my return, were put out of my reach. A few short months later, I came home to find my very own motorcycle. After a few more coastal sunset spins we set off for almost a four month journey across the US. For four months I was the horizon, the road, the wind and the rain. I understood why dogs have to hang their heads out the window. And it all started with a simple, “hmm” and the willingness to see the call as greater than my fears.

Some days, I fear age and common sense have caused a bit of hearing loss in my ears. But let me see a motorcyclist riding down the freeway and the rider’s head is turning to take in the scenery and ....

No desire to ride again, I learned the lesson. Now, I just need to remember the kick start so I do not forget.

About Me

I have begun a path, though I know not where, to a journey’s end that is calling. Along the way I pause to absorb the metaphors and images of this life, which are so precious. Here you shall find me brave, you shall find me pondering, you shall find me searching, and you shall find me collecting the images and metaphors like shells upon the beach. I am very much like the little monkey wearing a dapper hat, playing the cymbals and drum and dancing a jig. I do not have it all figured out, I may be learning to write, but one thing I do know and that is how to collect the shells on the beach of my beloved Gulf Shores. I offer these shells to you.